Page 5 of Ski You Later
Mom has been staying silent over the phone, as she waits for me to make my own decision on the matter. I know without a doubt she wouldn’t blame me for not going, but I know she’d be even more proud if I went anyway. With all these thoughts running through my mind, I double down on my decision and let my mom in on my idea.
“It’s actually so convenient that you brought this up mom,” fake cheer laces my tone. “It turns out that I’ll need a plus one for this wedding after all. My boyfriend’s going to be coming with me.”
CHAPTER 3
She’s wearing the wrong type of socks.
The rest of training went along seamlessly, ripping hot laps in the course until it was time to tear it all down. The slanghot laporiginating from the fact that you never stop skiing, and thus beingon fire.
At this level of our careers, almost everyone prefers to go at their own pace, and lap the racecourse as many times as possible instead of waiting around for friends to finish.
A consequence of this is having to interact with new people on every chairlift, and they’re always filled with comments. The spandex-polyester speed suit we have to wear in minus twenty-degree temperatures causes people to look at us with surprise.
Oh, I’m cold just looking at you!
Young lady, where are your clothes!
Does wearing a jacket really slow you down that much? I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.
I always hit them with a forced chuckle, and just jokingly agree since I never want my answer to come across as rude. What they don’t know is that wearing a jacket compared to a race suit could be the difference between first and twentieth place. The wind resistance and restriction of movement caused by the jacket can slow racers down by multiple seconds, but that reasoning seems ridiculous to the average person. At a certain point it just becomes too much work to defend the sport, so I just nod and move on.
Stomping my boots onto the worn rug of the lodge, I shake the snow off my gear and make my way to our usual spot. Spotting Rora taking off her gear with our friends, I bee line right for our little group. Squeezing past Calvin and his friends, I toss my gloves on the table and plop my butt on one of the cold metal stools.
This whole lodge was built to resemble a log cabin in the woods; the logs making up the walls, tables, and even the ceiling of the building. The entire space never fails to comfort me, and this is probably due to the fact that I was basically raised under these wooden beams. I just always assume they cheaped out at the final stages and put metal stools in for the seating, since the seats are as ugly as they’re uncomfortable.
Unbuckling my helmet, I glance up to see the rest of our group trickling in from outside. Charles sits across from me, immediately putting his head on the table and pretending to fall asleep. His sandy brown hair falls everywhere in the process, and I promptly brush it off my gear.
This causes him to jokingly glare up at me, and his piercing blue eyes catch my attention. Charles has a fairly ordinary face with very pale skin, but the beauty of his eyes immediately distracts everyone that meets him.
I look past him to see that Liam and Isla both made it to training today, with the latter being a little worse for wear. Liam starts to wrap his arm around Isla’s groggy form, and they both head to our table.
Liam removes his helmet to reveal hair so blonde, that rivals my own. Although, this is paired with his dull blue eyes that don’t hold a candle to Charles’.
Liam couldn’t be more different from the girl at his side as she also starts removing her gear.
Isla’s easily one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met, which is another reason Aurora seems to hate her so much. Her dark brown skin mixed with equally dark eyes draws people in like a magnet. Even as a high-performance athlete, she somehow manages to lookamazing at the end of a training day, and I'll never learn her secret. I couldn’t relate less to this if I tried, as I look in my goggles and see my hair sticking up in every direction.
Even though my best friend isn’t a big fan of her, Isla transferred to the Polar group this season, and has quickly become one of my favourite teammates.
Isla and Liam start to flirt before my eyes, and I cast a sidelong glance at Aurora. The hurt flashing on her face is sudden and sharp, but she just returns to taking off her boots as if nothing happened.
In classic Aurora fashion, she’ll simply ignore these emotions and focus all her feelings into her ski racing. I’ve tried to get her to talk to me about these feelings for longer than I can remember, but she’s as stubborn as they come. What’s important is that she knows I’m always here for her, and that is the best I can offer.
Her somber mood reminds me of my phone call, and how stressed I am about a certain situation I’ve put myself in. I’ll have to fill her in on my stupidity tonight, and maybe the joke that is my life will bring a smile to her face.
The different factions of our ski team all start to make their way to our corner of the lodge, as everyoneundresses and waits for the end of the day debrief. My friends are already spread out around our table, but my cousin and her band of morons push past us to sit at theirs. Turns out my nightmare of a cousin actually showed up today, as her and her two minions make a scene as they sit in their seats.
Jasmine, Taylor, and Sofia all carelessly toss their gear onto their table, howling with laughter at something Jasmine said. The noise is as fake as it comes because I know she’s the least funny person in the world.
She removes her helmet, her long, dark hair spilling out from the inside, and it proceeds to fall down her back in waves. Shaking her head lightly, her bronze skin somehow glimmers after practice, with the chocolate brown of her eyes complimenting all aspects about her. While our moms are both from central Alberta, her dad was born in Colombia, and blessed both his children with their beautiful bronze skin.
I watch as she makes another lame joke, and her resulting smile seems to shine. I don’t know how she does it, but her makeup looks the same as this morning, with her gloss still shimmering. Against my better judgement, I can’t help but compare myself to her.
My hair sticks up in every direction, while chunks of it are glued to my scalp with sweat. The greenof my eyes only brings to attention the paleness of my features, which makes everyone think I’m sick all the time. Aurora says my freckles give me a little bit of colour, but I think she’s just being nice.
Looking away from Jasmine, I’m determined to be kind to myself and focus on something else. Luckily, the male equivalent of Jasmine’s little group strides in, and their obnoxious energy floods the lodge in waves of testosterone. I look up and meet Aurora’s eyes, her dismay transforming into a fit of suppressed laughter.
Calvin, Nico, Grayson, and Kai are just yelling at this point as they start to remove their gear and talk about how good they are at ski racing. They all look the exact same if you ask me: tall, muscular athletes who are criminally obsessed with themselves. While their complexions all vary, they share the same buzzed haircuts and the desire to feed into each other’s egos.
